


When It Gets Dark...

by Chaos_In_Kaon



Category: Beyblade
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaos_In_Kaon/pseuds/Chaos_In_Kaon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tournament has started, and the Bladers have congregated in America to begin the first round, but it is quickly shut down when the body of a Blader is discovered, murdered in the park, While the teens are still reeling from the first death, more bodies turn up, all Bladers as well, and it's clear they are being targeted. Forced to stay in the hotel, fear and hormones hit all time highs, and all Hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Gets Dark...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I own nothing  
> Warnings - OOC and AU  
> Graphic violence and death, future rape and sexual content  
> Otherwise, enjoy :)

Chapter 1: Monster

The night seemed darker than usual, the moon hiding behind the clouds. He had planted himself in a good spot in the park, situated between a park bench and a tree. He sat in such a way that anyone approaching wouldn’t see Him before He saw them. He was dressed in vagrants’ clothing, dirty sweats and an old overcoat. No one would look at Him any longer than they would spare to any other homeless person. The large hunting knife, His favorite, was in the deep pocket of the coat.

He breathed deep and even, taking in the cool night air, His exhales coming in little clouds of vapor. His heart was beating so hard, He could swear it could be heard from the city, but His ears were finely tuned to listen for approaching footsteps in the dark.

He waited for an eternity, it seemed, before the first sounds of human life reached him. He shifted ever so quietly to get a better look. It was a man, on the heavier side, it looked. He was in a hurry, muttering to himself as he went. “…gonna kill me! I’m so fucking late!” He heard him say. The boy was very close now, and He could see now who it was. He knew this boy. Even better.

He stepped out from the shadows, forcing the boy to stop suddenly, almost falling over. “Oh!” the boy exclaimed, panting. The jog had taken the good out of him, it seemed. Too bad. Not much left in him. He simply watched the boy, loving the early stages where he didn’t know yet that he was going to die. Even better, in this case, because this boy was at ease with Him. He was just another contender, after all. 

The boy stared for a moment, before trying to step around Him. “..Right. Well, I have to get back. Barthez is going to kill me!” The boys’ path was blocked, as He stepped in front of him again. “Uhh..” the boy started, dumbfounded. He smiled now, watching as the boys’ face was registering the first signs of trouble. Not scared, yet, per se, but there was something there. 

“You’re not going back to the hotel.” He said, his smile easy and benign. “What do you mean?” The boy asked, squinting at Him. “It’s past midnight. I have to go, man! So should you! We’ll be in a pile of crap if we’re caught out this late!” The boy tried to push past Him now, and he did, as he was much bigger than He. The boy didn’t get far, though. 

The knife first slid in to the boy’s lower back, cold and quick. The first stab was so fast, all the boy could do was gasp, knowing what happened, but there was no pain, not yet. Just the cold blade embedded somewhere deep in his lower belly now. His smile grew now, as he held the 8 inch blade in place for a moment, and it wasn’t the pleasant, natural smile that the boy had seen earlier. It was as icy as the steel within him. He couldn’t see it, though. 

The boy started to yell, but it was very quickly turned to a sticky gurgle, as He threw all his strength behind it, and dragged the serrated blade upward, thrusting his hand a bit, tearing through skin, muscle, and organ. Blood spurted from the boys’ mouth, dark and thick. The boy fell to his knees, and He lowered his arm with him as he dropped, still dragging the knife upward, hitting home when it hit the left shoulder blade. He pulled the blade free, and the boy collapsed onto his front, making sounds that only the dying can produce, those rasps, gurgles, and few intelligible and weak cries for help that no one would answer. 

He knelt down next to the boy, and grabbed a fist full of his shirt that was still blood free, and used it to wipe the blade clean. He wore gloves, of course. He was no amateur. He watched with rapt attention as the boy died, faster than He would have thought. His victims were usually good for a few minutes, at least. This one just gave up too easily, he guessed.

When the shuddering breaths halted, and the boy was lying there, terrified eyes staring sightlessly into the park, He replaced his knife into the deep pocket of the overcoat, and retreated back into the shadows of the park, leaving the body behind to be discovered by morning, likely by an early morning jogger. 

When He returned to the hotel, He stowed His clothes in the backpack he was carrying, and entered the lobby, making His way to His room. Once inside, He showered, and got ready for bed. He was very relaxed, now, and couldn’t wait to have a good sleep, and be fresh for the tournament. If they had it, He mused to Himself, as He started to drift off. After all, a dead teenage Blader found the day the tournament started was big news. He fell asleep wondering whether He should select His next target from the pool of Bladers here, or if He should just slaughter whoever was unlucky enough to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

\---

 

The TV was on, though muted, and the days’ top stories were flashing by on the marquee scrolling across the bottom of the screen, while a pretty news anchor was soundlessly reading from the teleprompter. Only Hiro was paying attention to the text, everyone was else was too invested in the discussion of the upcoming battles for the tournament. “Wait!” He said sharply, stopping the team in mid-conversation, and turning up the volume. 

The screen was showing a picture now of Aaron, a member of the Barthez Battalion. The kids watched and listened, stunned, as the anchor lady reported his murder in the park, estimated to have happened shortly after one o’clock in the morning, asking for anyone with any information to come forward. 

In stunned silence, they then watched as Mr. Dickenson, looking very grief stricken, expressed his sympathy for family and friends, and told the country that the matches that day were of course cancelled, and all Bladers should remain in the hotel until further notice.

“Hiro..” Tyson started, eyes wide with fright. “I know.” Hiro replied to his unspoken statement. He knew they were scared. “Just stay in here, guys. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m going to go see if I can help with anything.” And he left Tyson, Daichi, Kenny and Hilary behind to discuss the very violent death of Aaron.

In another hotel room, on a different floor, the Blitzkrieg Boys were watching the same program, though without the fear the other teams were feeling. Spencer even turned to Bryan, and asked, “Where were YOU last night?” but he was only half joking. He knew all too well about Bryan’s past in Russia. Bryan quirked an eyebrow at his team mate. “Sadly, not in that park. Good work, though, taking out that useless hunk of shit.” Spencer and Bryan laughed, both of them brutal by nature. Tala didn’t show any interest in it whatsoever. Kai watched with mild interest. His team mates had no way to know that behind his poker face, he was hiding his surprise. He knew who did this. He saw it all too often back home…


End file.
